He spoke candidly about some of the highs and lows in both his personal and professional life: from struggling with adjusting to a regimented NBA lifestyle and learning to listen to his coaches, to learning to become a better dad and the impact of his appearance on public opinion.

But perhaps the most revealing of Iverson's statements came when he was asked about his now-infamous practice rant.

He felt he was duped by the Sixers front office, saying he was told that the reason for the press conference was to discuss why he wasn't traded from the team.

"You never knew what that press conference was all about," he explained.

Eleven years removed from the incident, Iverson wasn't accusatory. He wasn't angry. He just looked sad.

So when he told the modest crowd gathered to celebrate his career that the reason for his outburst was because his best friend had died the morning of that press conference, it finally made sense.

"The media -- they had no idea that my best friend had just gotten killed," he said.

He wasn't another primadonna athlete.

He was in mourning. And what man would want to grieve so publicly with his wounds so fresh?

Iverson was often villified throughout his career for being brash and abrasive, but beneath that, he was also lion-hearted, and, at times, endearingly vulnerable.

His piecemeal closure offering ended the "practice" storyline in a way that only Iverson could and became a fitting end to a complicated career.